


Follow Me Down

by Syrum



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Asphyxiation, Autoerotic Asphyxiation, Bottom Hux, Bruises, Changing Tenses, Character Death, Choking, Clothed Sex, Dominant Kylo Ren, Fic Exchange, Force Choking, Hurt No Comfort, Hux POV, Infatuation, M/M, Major Character Injury, Obsession, Past Tense, Poor Hux, Present Tense, Rough Sex, kylux 2016 fic exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-19 10:23:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5963866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syrum/pseuds/Syrum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt fill for the Kylux Fic Exchange, for Aimelle.</p><p>Hux finds out two things about himself; firstly, that he apparently has an asphyxiation kink, and secondly, that he has developed something resembling feelings for a certain Knight of Ren.</p><p>He knows that love is the one true path to disaster, but it's not love.  It isn't.  At least, not to start with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Follow Me Down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aimelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aimelle/gifts).



> Yes, shhh, Aimelle gets two. I liked both prompts.
> 
> The prompt;
> 
> Kylo/Hux, something preferably in canon universe but maybe an AU, where it's either one-sided or very unbalanced as in Hux is very very very in adoration more than in actual love with Kylo and it hurts

_Beautiful_ , Hux thinks, his mind jumbled almost painfully as he watches the master of the Knights of Ren work. The saber seems to dance between his fingers, one hand to the other then both, cutting a swathe through those who seek to take him down. His body ripples and pulses, curving around, the fabric of his robes following too slowly, where he was and where he wasn’t, making him look larger than life and twice as terrifying.

Hux, though, could not bring himself to be afraid. He wishes to be closer, to stand with Ren as the man battles against what seemed like insurmountable odds, to watch each flex of muscle, each precise swing from close quarters, unconcerned with the danger as Kylo shifts and dances around him.

Had he always been this unfairly beautiful? Hux knows the answer even before he has finished asking himself the question; yes. At least for as long as he himself has known the man. Those first few weeks aboard the Finalizer, the animosity that spilled between the two of them, two very different leaders unused to backing down, posturing for no one’s sake but their own. Hux had always found he was a good judge of character, something he had perhaps inherited from his father, and it had frustrated him to no end that he could not read Ren in the slightest.

He cares little for it now, though, concerned only with the arc of that flickering red saber and the twist of the knight wielding it. Hux can feel the flutter of his heart within his chest, a pulse of pride at Ren’s insurmountable might, and he lets his lips twitch up into a soft smile.

* * *

“I make you nervous.” Well, Hux thought with a private smirk, at least he wasn’t the only one unable to read the other. Even with his mask off, Ren was a closed book to him, his fierce intensity burning away anything resembling a real emotion that Hux might be able to use. But it seemed they were even, in that at least, and an even playing field was one he could work with.

“No, Lord Ren, you infuriate me. Your childish tantrums leave much to be desired, and your inability to respect the personal boundaries and right to remain breathing of my crew are downright inexcusable. The loss of life since you boarded my ship has almost quadrupled, and-” His tirade was cut off, abruptly, as something cold and solid closed around his throat. Ren’s hand, outstretched before him yet nowhere near touching, twitched. He felt the squeeze, the grip tightening, cutting off what small amount of air he had been gasping down. He had been backed up against the wall, feet dangling just above the floor, close enough that the toes of his boots scraped against the metal as he fought against the restraint. Black dots danced before his eyes, throat constricting as it gasped against the grip, he wondered belatedly if it was perhaps his day to die.

“Not today, General.” Ren growled in his ear, too close for comfort, almost pressed along the length of his body and seeming to tower over him. The grip left as quickly as it had been applied, Hux barely managing to keep his balance as Ren deposited him back on the floor without warning. Gulping down great gasping breaths, Hux thought he might pass out, if not for the cold metal wall at his back. Ren was still there, still watching, looking every bit the predator he professed to be. Hux wanted to snap at him, to demand what he thought he was doing, but the words wouldn’t come. He was trembling, or at least his body was, and when Ren finally pulled back with a sneer he was left shivering and alone in the corridor, glaring after the Force-user’s retreating back until long after he had vanished.

He was cold, and he was _hard_. Painfully so, cock pushed up against his breeches, trapped by the infernal fabric and leaking profusely.

Hux was beyond angry, beyond furious even, and not just at Ren either; he had allowed himself to get worked up by the hold on his throat, had let his body react, and - worst of all - Ren had _known_. Had gifted him with that damnable smirk of his, sauntered off as though he owned the Finalizer and everything on board, and had spent every day since leering over the General. Hux had hurried back to his own quarters, flushed and irritable with his arousal more than a little evident, and it was something of a miracle that he had not met anyone of note on the way there who might notice his flustered state. He had immediately taken himself in hand, near enough as soon as the door to his rooms had closed behind him, finishing twice over his own fingers before his traitorous mind would quieten down and allow him to think once more.

Yet even then, with the rolling exhaustion of post-orgasmic bliss engulfing him, he could not remove Ren’s image from his thoughts. Those piercing eyes, lit with a flame he had yet to witness ignite for any save himself, lips that seemed too soft, and hair that looked to be softer still. He wondered how it would feel, tangled in his fingers as they rolled together, taking from each other that which Hux had denied himself for so long. Too long, it seemed, as his hands found the fastening to his breeches once more.

It was another week before Kylo made his next move, and Hux was far from ready for it. A hand, this time, and Ren hadn’t bothered to announce his presence before pouncing. Hux was caught unawares, data pad dropping to the floor with a clang, the sound going unnoticed in the empty room. The hand squeezed, leather soft against the sensitive skin of his throat, and Hux stood stock still as Ren pressed up against his back.

“You enjoy this.” Ren made a sound somewhere between a chuckle and a hum, squeezing just a little harder, either not expecting a reply or not wanting one. “You _want_ me.” What Hux had wanted, at that moment, was somewhere between shooting the man point blank between the eyes with his blaster, and spreading his legs for the knight.

In the end, neither had been offered, Ren’s spare hand sliding into his breeches and tugging him free, the cold air aboard the star destroyer seeming frigid against the hot, hard flesh of his shaft. Leather wrapped around the length, tugging with a surprising gentleness, and Hux might have moaned if he could only catch his breath for a moment.

The fingers around his throat loosened, and then he truly did moan, the sound echoing around the near-empty room, cut off abruptly with a choked wheeze as Ren squeezed once more. It might have been embarrassing, if not for the way that damnable hand was simply _stroking_ , almost tender against the sensitive flesh of his cock, a strange reverence seeping through in the way Ren was almost worshipping it.

Hux came embarrassingly quickly, spilling over Ren’s gloved hand with a choked-off moan, the grip at his throat barely relenting even then. He was left trembling and weak, his knees threatening to give way beneath him, head thrown back against Ren’s robed shoulder and he was somewhat surprised when the man did not immediately retreat, or demand some sort of repayment, instead remaining in place until Hux was able to get his breath back and stand unaided. Still shaking, he tucked himself away and righted his uniform as Ren slunk from the room without another word, the red impression of fingers stark against the General’s pale skin and a smear of his own mess over his chest from the knight’s glove.

That was, he supposed, when he had lost his mind. Or at least when the obsession had started, and Hux was too smart of a man not to recognise it as such, yet too weak it seemed to do much about it. He began seeking out the knight where before he might have almost avoided him, purposefully trying to rile the man for another touch of that hand. He could simply ask, he supposed, and it seemed that might be what Ren was waiting for, his own admission of defeat within himself, yet Hux was too proud to voice it.

Two weeks. Two painful, agonising weeks, and Ren had not so much as raised his voice at Hux the entire time. Consoles remained undestroyed, none of his troopers or officers had been gutted, and Ren almost seemed to be having _fun_ with it. It was infuriating, and Hux was almost at breaking point. There were only so many nights that he could awaken with sticky sheets and the fleeting memory of dark cascades of hair and mocking brown eyes. He wanted, he needed. And he was going to do something about it.

Ren’s rooms had been placed rather too close to his own for Hux’s liking, though they had been the only suitable quarters at the time that were also available without causing some sort of scandal among the higher ranking officers. That Hux outranked them was irrelevant; they still knew how to complain something terrible. He now found, though, that the placement was rather more convenient than his own suggestion of situating the knight down in the cargo hold, standing as he was outside the door to his rooms, awaiting some sort of response from within. It was late enough that none passed while he stood there, the patrols of his Stormtroopers lessening in the nighttime hours, and yet still he wrung his fingers together as the wait stretched on, leather gloves creaking against one another, the stench of brandy upon his breath. Only two; he needed his faculties for what he was planning on doing, and Ren would be less than impressed if he turned up half a bottle in.

He was about ready to leave when the door slid open, and that was likely the point, wasn’t it? To see how long he might be willing to wait for whatever this was going to be. Ren was imposing as ever, near enough filling the doorframe, and Hux wondered what precisely was hidden beneath those layers of fabric. The mask was back in place, hiding the man’s face a little too well, yet Hux was certain he could feel appraising eyes scanning over him, his hands tightening together minutely behind his back. It was enough to make the leather creak too loudly in the silent corridor, and seemed to be what Ren was waiting for, as he backed off to allow entry.

“Strip, and get on the bed.” Distorted by the voice unit in his mask, Ren’s voice seemed far deeper, enough to send a shiver up Hux’s spine even as he glared at the man.

“I do not take orders from the likes of _you_ , Lord Ren.” Because even in his present state, with the knight invading his dreams on a nightly basis, he could not allow himself to relinquish control quite so easily. He wanted Ren to simply take what he wanted, give what was needed, and allow Hux to then go back to the life he had become accustomed to without the constant annoyance of this inane need clouding his thoughts and judgements.

“I will give you what you desire, but you will do what I tell you.” Ren had stalked forward, only three paces, but it was enough to leave him towering over the General. The ghost of a hand pressed up against his throat, not squeezing, not yet. It was a promise, one that he intended to follow through with, and Hux felt his breath hitch in his throat in response. He levelled a glare at the man, but it was weak with so little animosity behind it that he might as well have not bothered.

His boots were discarded first, then his gloves, placed delicately upon the corner of the small table by the door that, in his own quarters, held a vase that had never once had flowers within it. His jacket and breeches were next, folded as neatly as he could manage with the shake that ran through his fingers, and then finally his under clothes. He was taking perhaps more time than was strictly necessary, though Ren said nothing and gave no indication that he wished for Hux to hurry. He almost seemed to be _enjoying_ the act, watching the proud General strip himself bare, yet it was so difficult to tell with that mask in place.

“Good, now on the bed.” If Ren felt any sort of approval at what he saw, he did not show it; Hux had a feeling the small indication of praise was at the act of stripping, as opposed to whatever the knight perceived he had to offer. He might have produced something in the way of argument, or the faintest hint of snark, yet the imagined hand at his throat tightened ever so slightly and Hux remained silent.

Ren chose not to lead him through into the bedroom, instead watching Hux stalk through himself, following at a reasonable distance. Hux could feel the knight’s gaze upon his back, watching him, drinking in the sight of the bright red hair, freckled shoulders and slender waist. He had never truly felt self conscious about his slight frame, and compared to the enormity of Ren he truly was slight, yet under that scrutiny he could not help the flush that coloured his cheeks, feeling the need to cover himself, as ridiculous as that may be in their present situation.

“On your hands and knees, face the headboard, do not turn around.” He did as he was told, crawling up the bed on all fours, stopping only when he felt the bed dip behind him, the swish of fabric indicating Ren had not yet stripped himself bare. “You will not look at me, you will not speak unless it is to say my name. Break these rules and you will leave here with nothing, do you understand?” Hux opened his mouth to reply that yes, he understood, though no sound left his mouth. His jaw closed with an audible click; this was a test, Ren was _testing_ him, and only seconds into it he had very nearly failed. Instead, he offered up a jerky nod, remaining facing forwards as he waited to see what Ren had planned for him.

It was foolish, to put his life in the hands of a madman in such a way, and yet the thrill that ran through him with the first touch upon his back caused all logic to flee. He was expecting leather, so when he felt the touch of skin against his spine, Hux very nearly turned to look, catching himself only at the last moment and keeping his eyes forward.

“Good boy.” It should have sounded mocking, such praise falling from Ren’s lips, and yet somehow it didn’t. The distortion was gone, at least, which meant the helmet had been discarded somewhere, though Hux wasn’t certain whether he preferred the idea of Kylo doing this with or without the mask. Both, his mind supplied rather unhelpfully, as the hand trailed down to the small of his back, gentle beyond what he had believed the man to be capable of.

A second hand joined the first, trailing over first his back, then around to his stomach, up and over his chest to brush against pert nipples, earning a gasp from the General. Ren seemed pleased at this, redoubling his efforts, the soft brush of fabric against his backside doing more for Hux than he cared to admit along with the excruciatingly teasing touches. It was an unnecessary indulgence, and Hux was enjoying every minute of it, little gasps and whimpers spilling over his lips as he allowed Ren to take control. He had never permitted such a thing before, and likely never would again, but with the Force-user he could not seem to help himself.

“Ren-” A hand closed around his throat, stark contrast to the gentle caresses he had been bathed in, squeezing hard enough to choke, to leave marks if Ren wasn’t careful. Seconds passed, half a minute, and finally Ren released him enough to choke down a few grateful breaths. If he had been hard before, now it was downright painful, and the simple brush of the back of Ren’s hand over his cock was enough to make him whimper.

Fingers were at his entrance, slick and insistent, pushing past the ring of muscle without bothering to wait for his body to adjust. Anything gentle and sweet about the act had long since fled, and Hux wondered if Ren’s own desires were perhaps getting the better of him, hurrying his hand. A third finger, then, and Hux forgot how to breathe, pushing back against the intrusion, legs spread a little wider to accommodate more of that delicious stretch. He had missed this, had wanted it for longer than he had realised, had wanted _Ren_ for longer than he dared admit.

“Look at you, so needy for me.” Ren’s hair cascaded over Hux’s shoulder as the knight leaned over him, breath hot against his ear. “You don’t do this for anyone else, do you?” The fingers were gone, and Hux whined something unintelligible that should have been Ren’s name. They were quickly replaced by something far larger, hands gripping his thighs to keep them open, keep him in place as Ren pressed into his body, stopping only once he finally bottomed out. He felt huge, easily beyond anything Hux had taken before, and considering the height of the man the General probably should not have been overly surprised.

Ren gave him only seconds to adjust to the intrusion, hand once more wrapping around Hux’s neck and squeezing, choking him as the knight began a brutal pace, pounding into his body with a fervency that would undoubtedly leave bruises. He was pushing back against each thrust, movement limited by the hand on his throat, holding him in place. Every now and then, whenever Hux felt he might pass out, the hand loosened and he was allowed to gulp down just enough air to keep him conscious.

It only took the briefest stroke of his cock to tip Hux over the edge, making him spill over the bedclothes bunched at his knees with a loud, keening wail. Ren had slowed his pace, though had not yet stopped, holding Hux up as he shuddered and gasped, back pressed up against the still-clothed chest of the knight as he shuddered through his release. “You’re mine, Hux.” He murmured, earning a shiver from the General. “Mine, and I don’t intend to share.”

The pace resumed, then, Ren holding Hux’s pale legs open wider still, his face pressed down into the mattress, arms too weak to hold him upright as he was impaled by the knight. He was over-stimulated and it hurt, yet Hux didn’t want it to stop, willingly allowing his body to be claimed, marked as Kylo’s, pleasure-addled state demanding more of the rough treatment and soft words.

Ren came with a grunt, seed spilling deep within the willing body beneath him, hands tightening on Hux’s thighs as he emptied himself into the smaller man before pulling out and rolling off Hux with a huff, letting the limp body of the General collapse down into his own mess. They both lay panting for several long minutes, sweat drying on their overheated bodies, the silence stretching on into something approaching comfortable, until Ren decided to break it.

“There is a towel by the door. When you are able to stand, get dressed and leave.” Hux couldn’t stand, knew walking was near enough an impossibility, and yet still he tried. His mouth set in a thin line, eyes narrowed in a rage he knew he should not feel at the callous dismissal, a pain he would not acknowledge the source of. He slid from the bed and crumpled to a heap on the floor before he could manage to stand upright, a bitten-off yelp of pain spilling shamefully from his lips. Ren said nothing, though he did nothing either, remaining on the bed with his eyes averted. Hux wasn’t sure what he might have expected; not assistance, certainly, and he winced at the sharp stab in his lower back as he tried to move. Ren had not been gentle, and he was going to pay for it for the next few days at least.

The towel was rough against his already sensitive skin, once Hux managed to reach it, cleaning away the mess across his stomach and down his thighs, grimacing at the sensation of _Ren_ leaking from his body. He had wanted this, yes, but something was still lacking. Closure, perhaps, and he did not bother to fasten his jacket as he stumbled from Ren’s quarters and into the blessed relief of his own.

For the first time, since being appointed General, Hux did not turn up for work the next morning. He wasn’t certain he could have had he wished to, which at that point he certainly did not. Dark purple bruises marred his throat and cheek, as well as his thighs, and he had yet to recover enough to stand up straight or walk without a limp. His back still burned whenever he tried to move, and he wondered if that had been Ren’s intention, to ensure he remembered his weakness for as long as was physically possible without leaving a permanent scar.

Except, it _was_ a permanent scar, just not one that could be seen. Now that he had been allowed to taste what he wanted, Hux could think of little else. Laid up in bed, on his back, with a cold compress around his neck to try to reduce the bruising and swelling enough that the make-up he used on his freckles could be used to hide the marks until they healed, he had too much time to think, to recall Ren’s touch, the warmth of his hands trailing over Hux’s body, pressing in and opening him up in a way he had near enough forgotten. He had wanted to see, to return the caress, but he had been denied even that and the thought of it was enough to drive him near enough insane.

Phasma had checked on him twice, and he was certain that she was more aware of the situation than she let on, though he wasn’t entirely sure if he appreciated her silence on the matter or not. She was, and always had been, a straightforward and practical woman. It was rare for her to hold her tongue, and he found he might have actually appreciated her advice or at least her input on the situation, though he would never bring himself to ask for it.

It took two days for the bruising to go down enough that it could be hidden, the ache still very much present, but not enough to impair his ability to work. Phasma had, wisely, provided him with the pre-filled sick forms on the morning of his return, and he signed his name at the foot without questioning the contents of them; food poisoning was as good an excuse as any, though it did mean he would have to replace at least one of the canteen staff to show he was making an example. A shame really, he had no issues with their kitchen staff, but sacrifices had to be made and he could not allow himself to dwell on it.

Almost as soon as he arrived on the bridge, Hux knew he was in for a fairly terrible day. Ren had already made an appearance, hovering over his crew like a carrion bird, waiting for one of them to drop dead from their constant fear of the unstable Force-user. Hux could feel a headache start to build behind his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment before announcing his presence. Ren had clearly been aware of his approach, yet took his time in turning to regard the General, his dead-eyed stare felt keenly even through the mask.

“I have kept an eye on your crew while you were,” He paused, and Hux could near enough see the cruel curl of lips behind the voice modulator, mocking. “Unwell.”

“So I can see.” Hux let his gaze flicker away from the overbearing knight, resting upon each of his officers in turn, noting the way they seemed to gravitate towards him. As if, he thought with a scoff, he were some sort of shield that might protect them from Ren’s wrath. “I am quite recovered now, thank you, so there’s little need for you to remain here. I’m sure you have training, or something equally dull, to attend to?” Anything, really, to get the knight as far away from him as possible. Hux could feel his palms sweating within his gloves, traitorous body reacting to the mere presence of the man.

“If you are ‘quite recovered’, I’m sure you can think of better ways to show your gratitude than that.” Ren had stalked over to him, close enough that Hux could almost feel the heat radiating off the taller man, and though he refused to be cowed by this ridiculous false-Sith, he could not help the quickening of his breath or the way his pupils dilated as he glared up at the man. “I shall see you later, General.” He was still glaring as Ren turned and stalked away, disappearing from sight, the unspoken promise lingering in the air.

The remainder of his shift passed without incident, and every passing second seemed worse than the last. It was agonising; standing, sitting, near enough terrorising his own crew to the point where they wondered if Ren might have been more sympathetic, filling in paperwork twice, three times over, still unable to get it _right_. He hated himself, he hated Ren, and he particularly hated every single person who interrupted his thought processes that day.

He had a problem. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was infatuated with the knight who shadowed his every thought. It wasn’t love - he was entirely too practical and worldly wise for that. Love was weakness, was something reserved for those who were too blind to know better, and who needlessly suffered as a result. No, Hux had loved before, and each time had ended in heartache - always his own. He knew love, and this most certainly was not it.

But, that did not change the fact that he still somehow had _feelings_ for the man. Adoration, lust, jumbled together emotions and wants that he was struggling to sort through. He wondered, briefly, if they were perhaps not all of his own making, dismissing the thought almost as soon as it surfaced; Ren might well be a powerful warrior, and his ability with the Force was undeniable, yet Hux knew his own mind and nothing felt out of place. He was, no matter how subliminally, attempting to push the blame for his own failings onto another, and he berated himself for that fact.

Ren was already waiting in his quarters when he returned that evening, and the next night, and the one after that. Not once, since that first time, had Hux been allowed within Ren’s personal chambers, the knight always enforcing the use of Hux’s own space. He found he did not mind too much; walking anywhere after Ren was done with him was nigh on impossible, and being allowed to remain curled into his own blankets after the knight had left was an indulgence Hux allowed himself.

Because Ren never remained after the act. Not for long, at least; an hour at most, and always in silence. During sex Ren would treat him to praise, adoration, sweet nothings that meant everything in the moment they were uttered, yet after the fact it was as though they had never been spoken at all. Hux made certain to catch every single one, hold onto them tightly, because while it might not have been _love_ it was _real_ and it was _his_.

The time they had together, the silence, Hux relished that the most. Placid upon his bed, still coming down from the post-orgasmic high, he could simply lay and watch Ren, trace the lines of his face with his gaze, let it travel over that broad expanse of chest, marvel at the definition that had built over years of harsh training. There was nothing soft about Ren’s body, nothing gentle, and yet those hands could do such wonderful things to him.

He missed Ren, when he left. The bed grew cold too swiftly, and the stench of sex served only as a reminder of what he could have, but could not keep. Missed him more whenever duty called the knight away, whenever Hux’s own schedule made their trysts impossible for a time. He ached at first for the physical relief Ren offered, then simply for the man’s company, what little of it was afforded to him.

It wasn’t love, but it was getting close.

* * *

The rendezvous on Moraband to pick up some artefact Snoke desired should have been straightforward. As with everything involving Kylo and the Supreme Leader, it isn’t. They had been fired upon almost as soon as they disembarked from the shuttle, Ren’s lightsaber coming into play immediately, barely blinking as he wades into the thick of it. Hux has no idea who is attacking them - not Resistance, certainly; the insignia upon their left breasts entirely unfamiliar to him. He has his pistol, and it isn’t ideal but he’s one of the best marksmen in the entirety of the First Order, one after another of the enemy falling at his hand. He’s better than them, but they have the advantage of numbers on their side, Hux’s own small contingency of Stormtroopers never having stood a chance, most already dead.

Twelve dead by his hand, he counts, before the blaster bolt hits him in the back and he falls, face first into the dirt.

_Beautiful._

Ren dancing, blade flashing, the last of their attackers falling to his wrath.

_So beautiful._

“Sir? Lord Ren!” A pressure to his back, and he thinks perhaps it should hurt, yet he feels nothing but a still sort of numbness. “Lord Ren, the General is bleeding out, we need to-”

_My knight._

“Leave him, he has outlived his usefulness.” Ren snaps, expression cold on his exposed face as he stares down at the pale, bloodied mess at his feet. “I have no use for broken toys.” Hux’s heart seems to still in his chest, eyes turning glassy as he watches his knight stride away without looking back.

_Ren-_


End file.
